Archive for December 2015

I’ve just discovered that the website Vice runs a feature called Cry-Baby of the Week, and then there’s an annual round-up called Cry-Baby of the Year. In this context, “cry-baby” seems to mean a person or organisation who overreacted to a specific provocation. That’s not actually what “cry-baby” means, but anyway: this year’s round-up includes someone I’d kind of like to shake by the hand for challenging the cult of early so very very thoroughly.

I recently moved house. In my previous house, I was routinely woken early by the bin-men outside. Yelling at each other. Running the lorry’s engine. Throwing glass as hard as they possibly could so it smashed as loudly as possible. Yelling at each other some more. In any other context, having a gang of young men outside your house during the hours of darkness, shouting and throwing glass, is a big fucking problem and possibly a reason to call the police. But in the context of the bin-men, they’re just hard-working lads doing their jobs and obviously they can’t hear each other over the noise of the engine so of course they have to yell.

The time they reached my house would start at a bearable 7am-ish, and then gradually creep earlier and earlier and earlier until it was more like 5:30am. Then someone (sometimes me) would complain to the council. The council line was: “We’re doing our best. We’ve got a contract that prevents them starting too early and they’re obviously breaking the terms of that contract; we’ll have a word.” The other council line was “But we can’t have them starting too late, because then they’ll be blocking the main roads during rush hour and we must make life as easy as possible for people in cars.” (I paraphrase.) Once I said: “Well, why not have them do the main roads first, when it’s really early, and then do the residential areas closer to rush hour?” This idea was rejected because maximising your route for residents’ convenience means you can’t maximise it for efficiency. Good old efficiency.

Anyway, the council would “have a word” and then it would be OK for a while (“OK” meaning that they were yelling and smashing glass outside my house at 6:30am instead of 5:30am), and then the start time would start creeping earlier and earlier again. (Not long before I moved, they finally adopted a policy of switching the engine off while the bin lorry was stationary, which meant they didn’t have to yell over it. Yes, it was possible all along. Who knew?)

Listen. Nobody starts work at 5am rather than 7am by accident. The other way round? Yes. It’s called oversleeping. But nobody starts their engine-running, glass-smashing, screaming shift two hours early by accident. They do it because they think they can get away with it, and the reason they think they can get away with it (when someone turning up two hours late would be in deep trouble) is because of the cult of early. And, obviously, they do it because they’re a selfish cunt who figures that because they’re awake, everybody else should be awake too. That’s the kind of logic that’s only really acceptable in someone under two years old.

The main article about the case begins plaintively: “American society has long placed a special value on rising early for a hard day’s work. But this is apparently not always the case in the Atlanta suburb of Sandy Springs…”

Pure cult-of-early bullshit. What about the nurses, factory workers and so on who work later shifts and get to bed at 2am? Does their work not have value? Is it OK that they get woken within hours of going to bed so that someone who’s already been told not to start work before 7am can start work at 5am and feel smug about it?

Yes, sending him to jail was an overreaction. And yes, this case has all the hallmarks of the terrible, terrible American justice system: surprise prosecutor when the bin-man thought he was just going to court to pay a fine, plea bargain, probably a big chunk of racism.

But just imagine a world where everybody who “accidentally” starts work two hours early and wakes up hundreds of sleeping people actually gets a punishment in line with their selfish, shitty behaviour, instead of being treated like a fucking hero for having a body-clock that’s more lark than owl. That’s what a world without the cult of early could look like. But I’d prefer it if we could get there without putting too many more early-birds in prison.

It’s a Christmassy crap acronym! (Chrapronym?) This is courtesy of the in-house magazine for a health food franchise called The Grape Tree. (Can you guess what the magazine is called?) For those who can’t see the image, it says:

(Warning: if you are allergic to nuts, this is probably not a nice thing to do in December. But if you’re not, read on.)

For many years, it was my habit to look in the mirror in late autumn or early winter and feel vaguely horrified at my sudden ageing. Crows’ feet, wrinkles around my mouth, a general look of dullness and tiredness. I would take it as yet another reminder of my slow march towards the tomb and add my feelings about this to the general assortment of Seasonal Sadness Feelings.

A few years ago, though, something happened to clue me in: I touched my nose and realised the skin was literally flaking off. And that’s when I realised: I’m not suddenly ageing, I’m just a dry-skinned person suffering from a thing called winter. My problem is fixable!

So here’s a nice thing to do in December, if you’ve recently been shocked by how much older and tireder you suddenly look. Go to your nearest health food shop and buy a bottle of sweet almond oil. It will probably be in the aromatherapy section as a “carrier” oil for mixing with aromatherapy oils to dilute their strength. It might not really look like a skincare product. But trust me, the almond oil sold as a mixer for aromatherapy stuff is the same almond oil they put in the expensive products for dry skin. Just check the only listed ingredient is “almond oil” or “sweet almond oil” or “prunus dulcis” and you’re sorted.

And then you just rub a layer all over your face. Try it next time you get an evening at home, and pick a day when you’re going to wash your hair the next morning anyway, because it can get into the roots of your hair and make it greasy.

The speed with which it sinks in will tell you how much your skin needs it. I find it takes about an hour to sink into my face without trace. I do it at bedtime, and then if I wake up in the night I can tell from the oiliness or otherwise of my face whether I’ve been asleep for more or less than an hour, which is the closest I’m ever going to get to being Jack Reacher.

If your commute involves walking or cycling, if you can’t or don’t want to grow facial hair, if you’ve never got the hang of moisturising, the chances are that winter will give your skin a bashing without your really noticing. Give the almond oil thing a try. (If you can’t be bothered to buy almond oil specially for this, try olive oil or coconut oil or Bio-Oil, but almond oil is the best.)

I try to remember to do it as soon as autumn stops being all red-leaves-glowing-in-gentle-sunshine and starts being all bastard-blustery. I don’t wait until bits of my face start flaking off. If your skin doesn’t need it, the worst that can happen (assuming you’re not allergic to nuts) is that the oil doesn’t sink in for hours and you need to wash it off. The best that can happen is that your skin gets softer, you look suddenly younger and winter feels a bit less depressing because you’re doing a nice self-care thing regularly. It’s basically the skincare equivalent of realising your mysterious ennui disappears as soon as you eat a biscuit.

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